


Eight Minus One

by IsaacFoster



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Religion Mention, SpyDad, Suicide, dude he's your father get the hint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsaacFoster/pseuds/IsaacFoster
Summary: Scout has to deal with the mourning and self-hatred of his brother's suicide every year, alone. This time, though, completely unexpectedly, he's not so alone.
Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	Eight Minus One

Today was, without a doubt, always the worst, most blatantly awful day of the year for Scout. Each year, it was the same. He cried in his room. Alone. He hated people seeing him cry or even simply tear up.

Scout was far from what someone would define as a religious man, but sometimes on that day, this day, he subconsciously prayed. He was never actually sure if there was even an existing God, but somewhere in his mind, he knew that if there was one, this would be the only chance he had. In fact, there was never a pinpointed religion that he had believed in, ever. He just hoped, that God, perhaps multiple Gods, could help him move on. Perhaps they could maybe even help him be happy again.

All of these thoughts raced through his mind, like competitors attempting to win a tournament, tears similarly gushing down his cheeks like a waterfall. Scout let his tears make their way down to the floor pathetically whilst he lazily sat on the edge of his bed. He wiped his dampened eyes with the back of his hand, letting out a sniffle.

Then, he heard a creak in the floorboard. An uncommonly loud one, at that. He immediately turned his gaze to where he had estimated the unexpected noise to be, seeing the dirty, unwashed shirts he had on the ground miraculously shifting. Scout just continued to stare stupidly, streams of wetness still running down his face.

Then, seemingly like a classic magic trick at a magician's show, The Spy had appeared in front of him, looking down at the pitiful sight of Scout letting himself sob. Scout flinched at the sudden presence he had just now become aware was there, blinking rapidly for a second. He stared awkwardly, a word not spoken, his widened eyes anxiously fixated on the Frenchman before him, mouth agape.

"Were you... w-w-wa..." Scout stuttered embarrassingly, unable to get a full sentence out. He was so unbelievably angry at himself that he had let someone see him cry, especially since it was Spy, out of everyone that could've.

"Was I... wuh-wuh-wuh-watching you?" Spy raised an eyebrow, staring intently at Scout, "yes, I was 'wuh-wuh-wuh-watching' you." Spy said as he sat down beside Scout on his bed, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and a lighter, pulling out an individual cigarette, lighting it, and finally putting it to his lips and letting in a big inhale of smoke. When he exhaled, the smoke invaded the room with a puff of gray along with a stale smell. Scout held his breath. He was still silent, but his tears leaked endlessly and carelessly out of his eyes as he simply stared at his own feet on the ground and bit his lip.

"Why're ya here, moron?" Scout finally managed to say grumpily, attempting to choke back his tears.

Spy looked genuinely insulted. "Don't be so dull. I'm simply here because I heard you bawling your sad, little eyes out." He took another hit of his cigarette, only making the room they were in grosser and grosser. "I was purely curious as to why you would be making a mess with your own tears."

Scout lost his practical staring contest with the floor by looking up at Spy with a scowl.

"Go to hell, bastard." He growled in response as the tears dripping off his face after what seemed like an eternity seemed to finally calm down a bit. Spy sighed.

"At the very least, may I genuinely ask why you've been crying, Scout?" He asked and then inhaled a good amount of smoke, then exhaling again, like a fire-breathing dragon.

"Fuck off," Scout bared his teeth, this time keeping his eyes locked tight on the floor, not bothering to take the time to as much as look at Spy again. There was silence; cigarette smoke.

"My brother," Scout started again in a much more seemingly calm tone, "it's my brother."

Spy nodded, signifying that he was listening.

"Three years ago, on this day, he--" Scout felt the tears pile up again. He put his hand to his mouth. Spy simply looked at him without saying a word.

"He hung himself."

Spy's eyes widened; he certainly wasn't expecting this. He almost felt obligated to apologize to Scout. Still, he kept his mouth shut.

"He didn't even say goodbye, he..." the words slightly muffled by his hand, but still understandable, "he just... left. He just left us for Ma and me to find his hanging..." Scout choked back more tears.

"Dead... body." Ready, set, go. The tears started to race down his cheeks. The only sounds filling the room were Scout's unpleasantly loud sobs, heavy breathing included.

"Well, he loved you, no?" Spy asked, the still-lit cigarette between his middle and index fingers, awaiting an answer.

"Well, yeah, but I-"

"Scout," Spy started, "he was your brother. Siblings often fight, and my God, you should be well aware of that, you were the youngest of eight." He definitely had Scout's attention now. "He may not have left a note, or any kind of beforehand warning," he paused, "the problems he faced were obviously quite unbearable for him, but that doesn't mean he didn't care about you, your brothers, or your mother. Something as small as a suicide note should not dictate how your brother passed. He is gone, and he's missed, but the way he left is the least important thing right now." Spy fiddled with his cigarette while saying all of this, admiring the fiery tip of it. "What's important is the time you spent with him."

And with that, Scout just stared at him, tears falling as an endless stream down his face. Nothing happened. Then, mostly by impulse and shock, Scout hugged Spy. Although it was more of a fall into his arms than it was a hug, and Spy didn't even flinch. In fact, he smiled slightly.

"Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou," Scout felt he couldn't thank him enough. Life without his brother was hard, but this had given him a wake-up call that everything was going to be okay. He missed his brother dearly, but he shouldn't spend all his time blaming himself for it.

"De rien," Spy responded, lighting out and tossing the cigarette so that he could wrap his arms around Scout.

Maybe his prayers had been answered after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad I wrote this. It makes me feel so much better and even though it's short and simple I like it a whole lot, and I'm really happy with how it turned out.


End file.
